


a life or death situation

by tempestaurora



Series: wayward sons [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Also some pain, D&D, Fluff, Gen, Language: English/Nerd, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, apparently my dnd nerd came out in this, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 12:50:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16854286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempestaurora/pseuds/tempestaurora
Summary: Harley was short-circuiting a little.Luckily, Peter wasn’t.Peter shoved up his jacket sleeve and clicked a button on the side of his watch. Harley had a matching one. Harley never wore his because he was irresponsible and liked to laugh in the face of good decision-making. Peter, who had sense, wore his every day, and the button sent a panic alarm directly to Iron Man.Harley really needed to wear his watch more often.Peter met his eyes. “It’s okay,” he whispered so quiet Harley could barely hear him. “We’re gonna be fine.”





	a life or death situation

**Author's Note:**

> so i was gonna do another funny fic but i also wanted to make this series a little more substantial, considering i have a vague overarching idea for it. so there's moments of comedy, and of course social media usage, because that was the main point of writing this series in the first place, but i want harley to get some time and i want him to be a fleshed out character with fears and junk like that.
> 
> so that's what this is, but it's also cute and there's brotherhood and harley and peter being co-dependant.
> 
> if you haven't read from the beginning of the series, i rec it for context and because people are saying that it's not half bad. wayward sons is likely the only fic content i'll be writing over the next month or two because i'm finally back to writing my novel again
> 
> enjoy!!

By the time the boys reached the bank at mid-afternoon, there were three updates to Harley Keener’s Instagram story.

The first one was a selfie. He was in his pyjamas, his hair was a mess and there were deep purple bags under his eyes. The text first gave the time, and then said ‘HOW???’ with a pointed arrow at the woman standing behind him. Pepper Potts, at seven-fifty-four in the morning, looked immaculate in her pristine white dress and blazer, a briefcase in hand as she was about to walk out the door.

The second update showed Tony Stark, Harley’s temporary guardian while he stayed in New York for school, busying himself with a notebook and his illegible scrawl. On the table in front of him, at which Harley was also sitting, there was a stack of Dungeons and Dragons manuals in different shades, a velvet bag spilling out dice and a pile of miniature figurines of the groups’ characters.

The third was a video, slightly shaky in Harley’s hand.

“I’m gonna die,” Ned Leeds moaned, eyes wide, as he stared at the battle map spread out on the table.

“You’re gonna be fine,” MJ said, Harley spinning the camera quickly to get her in shot.

“I’m gonna die,” Ned repeated.

“You’re gonna be fine,” MJ shot back.

“It’s a cannonball,” Peter interjected, and Harley moved the camera to catch Peter, sitting opposite, gesturing to the battle map, with its crude pirate ship drawing. “That’s 8d10 damage on a hit.”

There was a pause. Harley moved the camera back to MJ.

“You’re gonna die,” she said, and Ned whimpered.

 

*

 

They were at the bank because Harley had just had his birthday and his mom had sent him a cheque he needed to cash in. He knew his mom was a little embarrassed by having sent a cheque, when Harley was living with a billionaire, but he couldn’t blame her – they’d never been close enough for her to know what he liked, and he’d been gone for a year, so she wouldn’t have known anyway.

Peter came along because it was rare that they did anything without the other anymore. Peter was attached to Harley’s hip, but Harley was the one that glued him there.

“We’re so lucky we’d visited a temple recently,” Peter said as they passed through the threshold of the bank. “If we hadn’t, Bjork would be dead right now.”

Harley hummed his agreement and moved into the line. There were a few people ahead of them, and he patted his pocket, confirming that the cheque was still there.

“We’re luckier we all rolled well,” Harley replied. “The pink dice were one bad roll away from dice jail-”

“Even so, you shouldn’t have risked _Bjork’s life_ on the pink dice.”

Harley shrugged. “I like the pink dice.”

“I can’t believe Ned’s playing a Gnome Barbarian now,” Peter said, cracking a smile and shaking his head. “That’s such a ridiculous image.”

Harley snorted. “I’ll miss him being a Goliath. Aerelm was down to fuck Bjork when he was massive.”

Peter’s laugh was loud in the quiet of the bank, and he pulled his lips together in a tight line when people looked.

Their fortnightly D&D session had gone as well as planned, despite one of the demon pirates’ cannonballs landing a hit on Bjork. He insta-died when the damage was so massive that it reached his health point maximum in negative numbers.

(On Peter’s Instagram story, there was a photo of Ned, frozen in utter despair, and giant letters that wrote ‘RIP BJORK’ across his face.)

“MJ was so excited for Bjork and Aerlem to date,” Peter commented, taking a step as the queue moved. “She was planning to draw a whole lot of porn about them.”

Harley laughed. “A Half Orcs and a Goliath? Hot.”

Despite everything, when the four of them made their characters for Tony Stark’s epic adventure, they’d all been incredibly adamant that their characters were hot.

Harley’s Aerelm Harda, the Half Orc Fighter, was just angry hot and kind of green, was all. Ned’s single-named Bjork was a seven-foot tall stacked Goliath Barbarian (with such low charisma that it was a marvel he could even speak) who could, in Ned’s words, “totally pull”. MJ’s character was a winged Aasimir Ranger called Finnia Amara Miralee Faynore, and apparently, “the hottest person any of you have ever seen”, while Peter’s Water Genasi Warlock, Cayde Tempest, was just “every day average hot, you know? Like, you’d see him in a club and fuck him, but he’s not a supermodel or anything”.

Tony was both proud of them all and exasperated at all times.

The queue moved forward another step, and Harley looked over to Peter just in time to see his eyes open wide and his body stiffen.

“What’s-”

Peter yanked on Harley’s arm, pulling them out of the queue, just in time for the front doors to slam open. Harley didn’t get a glimpse of whoever walked in, but he heard the shocked gasps, and saw people stumble back.

He and Peter were already at the side of the room, Peter shoving him down behind a free-standing desk where an employee would usually stand.

“Money in the bags,” someone announced in a yell. The facts of the situation caught up with Harley in a heartbeat. _Oh. Bank robbery._ “No fuckin’ funny business. If I see _anything_ everyone in here gets shot up, you got that?”

Someone squeaked a response from across the store and Harley swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He’d never been in a bank robbery before. In fact, Harley Keener had made it through seventeen years without much happening to him at all. Sure, he’d been in one precarious situation with a knife, but Spiderman was there in a heartbeat. Sure, he’d gotten into school fights – but Harley was a scrappy son of a bitch and there was never a _danger_ there.

The most dangerous thing Harley had ever been in was Tennessee at thirteen when Tony Stark rolled into town on the Mandarin’s trail. The device that Tony had given Harley to demotivate bullies (before he grew six inches in a summer and learned how to throw a punch) still worked and sat, nice and cosy, in the backpack he wasn’t wearing.

So Harley was short-circuiting a little.

Luckily, Peter wasn’t.

Peter shoved up his jacket sleeve and clicked a button on the side of his watch. Harley had a matching one. Harley never wore his because he was irresponsible and liked to laugh in the face of good decision-making. Peter, who had sense, wore his every day, and the button sent a panic alarm directly to Iron Man.

Harley _really_ needed to wear his watch more often.

Peter met his eyes. “It’s okay,” he whispered so quiet Harley could barely hear him. “We’re gonna be fine.”

But how could they be _fine?_ Peter wasn’t wearing his spider suit. There were guns in the room with them. Harley was an aggravator just by being alive – he was 100% going to get shot today.

They stayed quiet and hidden until one of the men found them.

“Hey, look at that,” he announced. His face was covered by a Spiderman mask – _seriously?_ – and there was a big-ass gun in his hands. Harley wasn’t familiar enough with guns to know what kind. “We got two kids thinking they can hide. What were you boys doing, huh? Making out?”

He kicked Harley’s foot and gestured with the gun. “Get up.”

Harley shot a look over to Peter, whose face was closed off and cold. That wasn’t necessarily reassuring.

The boys stood up, and as they were stepping out from behind the desk, the fake Spiderman shoved a hand into Harley’s back, sending him stumbling into Peter.

“Asshole,” Harley muttered.

“What was that?”

He didn’t respond and moved forward to where everyone else was kneeling, their hands behind their heads.

“On the ground,” the guy ordered, just as there was a gunshot from further back in the bank. Harley flinched.

“What happened?” one of the other guys – Hulk mask – yelled.

There was a moment of quiet as Peter jittered beside Harley, before a guy in a Thor mask walked out from the back, gun in one hand, bag in the other. “Bitch thought she could sound the emergency alarm. She didn’t, don’t worry.”

Hulk and Spiderman looked at each other, and Captain America, across the room, spoke up. “You got the money? We good to go?”

Thor lifted the back. “Yeah- hey, you two, get on the ground.” He was talking to Harley and Peter, who’d remained standing throughout the news. “Why are they up?”

Harley and Peter moved to their knees as Spiderman said, “Found ‘em behind the desk. Don’t they look kinda familiar to you?”

Hulk shrugged but Captain America took a step forward. “Yeah, actually.”

“Hey, it doesn’t matter,” Thor said. “We’ve got the money. Let’s head out the back.”

“Right,” Hulk replied.

Thor made a gesture to the group of civilians on the ground. “Take one of ‘em, so the others don’t get any funny ideas about rushing us.”

It was Harley’s luck that Spiderman yanked on his arm, pulling him up.

“Hey!” Peter said, jerking forward. A gun trained on him and his mouth slammed shut.

Harley was at a loss. There was a man in a Spiderman mask holding his arm so tight he might just break it off, his gun pointed against Harley’s back. It was ridiculous that he felt as scared as he did back in Tennessee on Eric Savin’s lap – that was five years ago, shouldn’t he be less afraid by now?

But guns were fucking scary no matter your age, Harley figured, as he was shoved forward and away from Peter. He tried to strain to see his brother before the fake Spiderman hissed at him to keep moving.

What was taking Tony so long?

They made it to the doorway out of the main area of the bank when he saw the body on the ground. That single gunshot from earlier made a reappearance in Harley’s mind. There was a blood splatter across the wall and a gruesome red stain where the woman’s left eye should be.

Harley gagged at the sight.

_Tony’s coming. Tony’s coming. Tony’s coming._

But Tony wasn’t here yet.

What would they do with him when they didn’t need him anymore? Would they shove him aside and climb into their getaway car? Or would they shoot him like they shot her?

Harley didn’t want to die in a bank. In fact, he hadn’t given his death a whole lot of thought since he was twelve and actually at risk.

But he knew he didn’t want to die here, and he knew that he didn’t want to die in a violent way. There would be no bullet through his back, gut or head; no explosion tearing him apart, no scream falling from his lips. Harley Keener, now he was finally thinking about his mortality, wanted a peaceful death. He wanted something quiet, something barely felt. He wanted to fade, gradually then all at once.

He didn’t want to die like this.

They made it only a few more steps before the gun and the hand vanished from his back with a muffled grunt. Harley span, finding the body on the floor and Peter standing over it, that dark expression on his face like he was going to tear them all apart.

Peter’s eyes scanned Harley for a millisecond, before he grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the others.

“Hide,” Peter instructed, then started off to the others, his footsteps silent.

Harley didn’t hide. He spared a glance for the fake Spiderman, unconscious at his feet, before watching as Peter swiftly kicked Captain America’s feet out from underneath him; grabbing him before his body hit the ground and punching him hard in the face to stop him from making a noise.

Then he was onto the next. He didn’t use his natural talent of sticking to walls, or even the webshooters attached to his wrists. Rather, to anyone watching, Peter Parker was just really fucking good at fighting.

So Peter leapt over Cap and onto Hulk’s back, kicking off one wall and slamming him into the other. Thor was now aware of the situation and turned with his gun raised – ah, that made Harley hide. He ducked around to hide behind the doorframe, peeking out the side to watch as Peter ducked behind Hulk as the gunshots went off. Most pierced the wall behind them, but one went through Hulk’s shoulder.

Peter used the next second of surprise to grab the injured arm, twist it and fling Hulk over his head. Then he met Thor head on, knocking the gun up towards the ceiling as it went off, slamming the butt of it into Thor’s face, cracking the mask, and landing a hit in his stomach. It all happened in a heartbeat. Peter moved so quick that Harley could barely keep up. Thor doubled over, Peter rammed his knee into his head and the guy collapsed, bag of money on the floor by his side.

Peter blew out a breath and gingerly stepped over the bodies and back to Harley. He frowned. “I told you to hide.”

Harley straightened. “You’re not the boss of me.” Then he pulled Peter into a hug, fast and tight. Neither of them said a word. Peter’s unspoken _I’m glad you’re okay_ met with Harley’s silent _thanks for saving my life_. There was a third message that Harley didn’t even send out into the world, a _I was so goddamn scared I was going to die_ – but he didn’t like the idea of that existing outside his head.

The two of them moved back to the main group, who were calling the police and freaking the fuck out over the glimpses of a teenage boy taking on four grown men with guns. Only a moment later did Iron Man appear, entering through the front doors.

Peter rolled his eyes. “You’re too late,” he said.

The faceplate retracted. “You kicked their asses without me?”

“Get here sooner next time and Harley won’t be taken as a hostage.”

_“What?”_

Harley nudged Peter. “Pepper told us to stop giving him news like that. He’ll have a heart attack one of these days.”

Tony pressed a metal hand to his metal chest as he stepped towards them. “That day’s today. They took you?”

Harley hesitated, catching the fear in Tony’s eyes. The _I didn’t get here in time to save my kid_ kind of look. The _what if Peter hadn’t been here to save him_ kind of look. The _Harley could’ve died today_ kind of look.

“I’m okay,” Harley said, pushing as much sincerity into his tone as he could muster. “I am.” His legs were shaking and his heart was hammering hard inside his chest. But he was alive and he hadn’t died a violent death today. That was as good as he could have asked for, right then.

One of Tony’s hands landed on his shoulder, and Peter pressed his arm against Harley’s, which was enough comfort from the both of them to keep him standing for a little longer.

“Let’s get you two out of here,” Tony said. “Peter, you can have ice cream for saving Harley’s life.”

“Wait,” Harley protested. “Don’t I get ice cream?”

“Are you wearing your watch?” Tony asked with a pointed eyebrow.

Harley shrugged. “So no ice cream for me, that’s fine.”

Peter laughed despite it all as they headed for the exit, the police sirens loud and approaching.

“Wait,” Harley said, suddenly. “I never deposited my cheque.”

 

*

 

It was well into the evening when Harley updated his Instagram story. There were already news reports of his and Peter’s presence at the robbery, and he’d already received one too many Tweets asking if he was okay.

Harley and Peter were on the sofa in the living room of Tony’s penthouse, Harley leaning against Peter’s side, his back against Peter’s arm, the spot where the gun had pressed into him neatly covered with a pressure he trusted.

“Have you posted anything about today?” he asked, tipping his head back to attempt to see Peter.

“Not yet. Might just Tweet that we’re alive and fine. All the witnesses confirmed the ass-kicking, as did the surveillance footage someone leaked.” Peter sighed. “I have to explain that at some point.”

“Or not,” Harley replied, mild. “You don’t owe them shit. Just never address it.”

“What if it comes up at school?”

Harley shrugged. “Then I’ll handle it.”

“Like you _handled_ Flash?”

Harley smiled. “Hey, I take on school bullies and you take on adult ones. We’re a team, Parker.”

He heard Peter’s scoff but assumed he was smiling when he caught sight of Peter’s fist, held out for him to bump. Harley hit his knuckles against Peter’s.

 

*

 

“We’re alive,” Harley said on his Instagram story. “And okay, I guess.”

“All in one piece,” Peter confirmed from behind him. “Or—two pieces I guess? We’re separate entities?”

“No, we’re not,” Harley replied. “That’s never been the case.”

“You’re right, you’re right. Anyway, we’re good, we’re fine, we never cashed that cheque we went in the bank for.”

The video cut out as Harley barked out a laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> my dnd group is running a pirate campaign right now and one of the most popular things to say when cannonballs are involved is "it's okay. the smallest amount of damage it can do is eight. the biggest is eighty. it'll be somewhere in there." one character almost insta died in their first session, and if it hadn't been for a monk ability, they would've bitten it no questions asked.
> 
> aerelm harda is the same name as my friend, billy's, half elf paladin. half orc feels more harley though.  
> bjork is made up for funsies.  
> finnia amara miralee faynore (aka finn) is actually my character from my first campaign. she's an aasimir in this because that's a more popular race than the homebrew averial that finn was in my game - but essentially, she was a winged elf ranger. also, the hottest person any of the party had ever seen. (also, rip)  
> cayde tempest is my friend's water genasi warlock and i absolutely believe that he's “every day average hot, you know? Like, you’d see him in a club and fuck him, but he’s not a supermodel or anything”. i also maintain that if his creator, reece, read that sentence, he'd probably agree.
> 
> (also, 100% believe harley would play a fighter, ned a barbarian (then die and go out for sorcerer probably), mj would be a ranger and peter would go for something magicy, like a warlock)
> 
> anyway, whatever. thanks for reading, pls talk to me in the comments, and if there's any shenanigans you wanna see harley and peter do, suggest them either here or on my tumblr (tempestaurora) and i might write them! (if they're in ask form on tumblr i might write mini ficlets)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The truth is, there aren’t any grown-ups. Not one, in the whole wide world.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19805272) by [GeraldTheFabulousGiraffe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeraldTheFabulousGiraffe/pseuds/GeraldTheFabulousGiraffe)




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